


Down on the Upside

by Lobotomite



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Depression, Gen, past Robron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobotomite/pseuds/Lobotomite
Summary: Some days, getting out of bed is more than he can bear.





	Down on the Upside

Aaron breaches consciousness like he's swimming in molasses, sleep clinging to him and threatening to pull him back under, and he's so heavy with the weight of drawn out dreams he's sure he's overslept.

It's only when the panic of a missed deadline has jolted him enough to force his limbs into motion, when he's fumbled for his phone and is squinting blearily at a screen displaying "4:16 am", that he notices what should have been obvious from the start; the room is dark, a single soft beam of moonlight peeking through the curtains and draped across his bed, and the house and village outside are hushed and silent.

Fuck.

He lets his arm fall, fingers loose around his phone, too exhausted to even click it back to sleep, and stares blankly at the white light against his fingers until the screen turns off by itself. His mind feels sharp and brittle despite the heaviness of his body, and he's sure he's not going to be able to get back to sleep, but he closes his eyes and the next thing he knows he's being pulled to the surface again by the buzzing of his phone right next to his head.

It's a battle to even open his eyes, this time, and he's beyond tempted to just lay there and wait out the alarm – but Liv is here, too, so he forces his eyes open and swipes halfheartedly at the screen so that the noise stops.

Most days, he would have set it to snooze and stubbornly tried to eke out a few more minutes of rest, but he knows that if he lets himself stay in bed now he's not going to get out of it today.

Which – it's tempting. Excuses for missing work are already forming in his mind – _sorry, Ad, phone must be on the blink – sorry, mustn't've set the alarm right - sorry, feeling ill, not gonna make it, but I'm fine, it's fine -_ but Liv will notice, if he's not up when she is, and he swore, he _swore_ he wouldn't do to her what her mum had done, wouldn't let her take his problems on.

So he pushes the covers off, and forces his uncooperative muscles into movement, his weighted limbs into motion, and manages to drag his weary body into the kitchen. It's embarrassingly hard to do – his traitorous brain overwhelms itself, turning what should be a simple action – _go to the kitchen_ _–_ into a compounding avalanche of tasks.

_Sit up. But remember while you're sitting up that you have to sit up and then push the covers off. You have to sit up and push the covers off, and then you have to turn yourself around and put your feet on the floor. While you're getting ready to sit up, remember that you have to sit up and push the covers off, and then turn around and put your feet on the floor, and then you have to stand up, and then you have to walk past the bed, and then you have to walk to the door, and then- and then and then and then-_ cutting that thought pattern off before it overwhelms him is almost as exhausting as actually moving in the first place, and there have been plenty of days in his life when he's let it tie him to the bed.

Not today, though. Today he gets himself up, gets all of those intimidating things done, and gets into the kitchen. He's not really a coffee drinker, but the bone deep tiredness has him going to raid Robert's stash – and then he remembers dumping it in the bin after realising Robert had forgotten them when he left, and he feels sick and even more exhausted, reaching for the tea bags instead and then flicking the kettle on.

He sinks down onto a chair while the kettle boils, face buried in his hands. It's a mistake, maybe, because he knows he's going to have a hard time standing up again, but the thought of staying standing makes him want to cry.

Even the act of sitting down still stings, in this house; whether it's something he'd brought with Robert or something he'd brought to replace something he'd brought with Robert, things tied in his mind to his ex ( _ex lover, ex husband, ex confidant_ ) are everywhere.

Leaving Robert was what he needed – what _everyone_ needed - and he knows it was the right decision. He knows he's already improving, without the weight of Robert's betrayal staring him in the face every day, without feeling guilty every day for not having forgiven his husband, and he knows it's for the best for Robert, as well. He deserves a partner who doesn't hope for the best but expect the worst. But on days like this, when everything is a mission, he just aches for things to be back the way they were, in that brief moment of time where he'd really thought they were going to make it.

He's startled out of self-pity by Liv tromping into the kitchen, heading past him with a grunt that could only be construed as a greeting if you were dealing with a teenager and pawing through the cupboards in search of food. It takes a few long minutes of staring blankly at the table while his brain starts to grind into motion before he remembers that she's up so early because she's got plans with Gabby today.

"Aaron?" He looks up and meets Liv's gaze, her face wrinkled in amused disdain. "Did you put the kettle on for a reason?" He realises with a start that she's been sat down for a while and the kettle has long since boiled, and forces his mouth into what he hopes is a sheepish smile, pushing himself up and going through the familiar motions of making a cup of tea for the both of them.

"Right," he manages, aiming for embarrassed but knowing it comes out flat, and Liv pauses in shoveling cereal into her mouth to give him a concerned look.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he answers, putting all of his meager store of energy into making it sound authentic. "Didn't sleep great, is all."

She doesn't look entirely convinced, but she resumes eating, letting out a low hum of acknowledgement. He does his best to act normal while she finishes, making himself some toast and forcing himself to eat even though the toast feels like sand in his mouth and the tea feels like it's going to come right back up. It's a relief when she dumps her bowl in the sink and heads to her room, giving him time to toss the rest of his breakfast and tip his tea down the drain.

He stands in the kitchen staring down at the sink for a long moment, listening to the sounds of Liv getting ready in her room and trying weakly to grasp onto his usual routine and remember what he should be doing right now. It finally gets through to him that getting dressed would be a good start, and he drags himself back to his room (still full of obvious empty space where Robert used to fill the space, still painful) and spends even more time staring blankly at his clothes, overwhelmed by even this meager choice, before grabbing the first things he sees and pulling them on.

He only realises just how much time he's spent doing fuck all when he emerges from his room to Liv already ready to leave, hair in one of her intricate designs and looking conspicuously done up. The fond, teasing smile that comes to his face only needs a nudge to look genuine, and he bumps into her gently, nudging her with his elbow.

"Have fun on your date, you," he says, and she glares at him, going pink.

"It's not a _date_ ," she exclaims huffily, smoothing her shirt out self-consciously, and he grins.

"Sure. Have a good time on your not-date, then." She glares at him but still goes in for a hug, always feeling so small and frail in his arms even though he knows she's plenty capable of taking care of herself.

"I love you," she says quietly into his chest, and then pulls away, informing him in a much louder voice that "you're going to be late, you know, Adam's not going to be happy," before trotting eagerly out the door.

She's always good at brightening his day – not that he would ever put that on her, never expect her to support him when it needs to be the other way around. It's still disheartening, the way the warmth of his affection towards her is snuffed out almost as soon as she's out the door, replaced by the fog of indifference that's trying to drown him.

He needs to go to work. He just needs to go get some socks, brush his teeth, get ready. He's definitely going to go to work today, he tells himself, heading to his bedroom. _I'm going to work_ , he repeats in his head, already halfway through texting an excuse to Adam, barely even looking at what he's saying and pushing aside any thoughts of if he's being even remotely believable. _I'm going to work,_ he insists, curling up under the covers fully clothed. _I'm definitely going to work._ He just... he just needs to rest, first.

 

* * *

 

He's hauled out of sleep to the sound of fists rapping on his door – his _bedroom_ door, he realises, lurching upright and digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. He scrabbles for his phone, feeling guilty when he sees four texts and three missed calls from Adam.

"If you don't open up I'm just coming in," he hears through the door, and he once again drags himself out of bed, stumbling to the door and pulling it open to come face to face with an Adam who is making an admirable effort not to look too relieved.

"You look like shit, mate," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and Aaron just grunts, leaning into the door and letting his head tip against it.

"You didn't need to come check on me, Adam," he says flatly, and Adam doesn't even bother pretending that's not what he's doing, shrugging at him.

"Well maybe if you'd answered your phone..."

Aaron does wince at that, feeling vaguely guilty, and knowing he's going to be feeling a _lot_ guilty when he's over his little episode.

"Sorry. That was... But, I'm f- I'm okay, I just. Um. Just need... to rest, a bit. You can-"

"Ah, no, mate, don't even say it," Adam warns. "You're not getting rid of me, so you might as well give up now. You're coming with me and sitting your ass down on that couch, and I don't much care what you do there, but you're not doing it by yourself, okay?"

Aaron wants to be affronted at the imposition, wants to not need Adam there – but all he feels is tired, so fucking tired, and above all is feeling, if not better, then comforted by Adam's steady presence.

"Fine," he concedes, dragging a hand across his aching eyes and down his face. "I just... you don't have to."

"I'm not doing this because I think I _have_ to, lad," Adam says, clapping him on the shoulder and leading the way to the living room, leaving Aaron to shuffle after him and slump down onto the couch. Adam has come prepared, pulling his laptop out of his bag and settling down beside Aaron, dropping a brown paper bag on the table in front of him.

"That's for you," he says offhandedly, and Aaron's chest tightens in gratitude. He still doesn't have an appetite, but the pie inside smells good enough that he starts picking at it as Adam turns on the TV and sets it to some reality show before placing the remote down between them.

He gets through almost a quarter of the pie before it's too much, and then he sits there half watching the reality show and then the following daytime TV shows that would in normal circumstances bore him to death. He doesn't sleep, but the steady clicking from Adam on his computer – he's pretty sure Adam is doing actual work, and part of him feels guilty and useless, but it's not strong enough to rouse him into doing anything about it – and the comfort of the couch have him hovering just above dozing.

He doesn't feel good – really, he doesn't feel much of anything. But he knows that he'd be feeling a hell of a lot worse, if he was by himself with the freedom to wallow in his losses, and Adam's quiet presence is everything he needs right now.

He gently knocks his knee against Adam's, incapable of finding any words to express himself, but Adam gets it, just like he always does, nudging him back and giving him an easy smile.

"Is this... We don't have to talk if you don't want to, Aaron. Tell me to piss off and I will. But this is about Robert, isn't it?"

Aaron takes a moment before he answers, frowning down at his hands as he goes automatically to twist his missing ring.

"I... I don't know. It's – I'm...." he fumbles for the words, tongue feeling heavy and useless, and Adam just sits and waits quietly. "I don't know if it's... _because of_ him. I mean... I was a fucking mess long before I met him, wasn't I," he says with a humourless laugh, appreciating the way Adam's mouth twists but he doesn't butt in. "But... it's part of it, I guess. I just..." He has to break off, scrubbing a hand across his face, then takes a deep breath and tries again.

"I just keep wondering if I could have made it work," he says, voice wobbling, and Adam reaches out and pulls him in, letting Aaron push his face into Adam's shoulder and try and hold the tears back.

"It wouldn't have been worth it, Aaron," Adam says strongly, arm tight around Aaron's shoulders. "I know that when it came out I was for you working through things, but that was when I thought he was good enough for you for it to be worth it. Fuck, Aaron, I know you didn't tell me everything but I was there, right, I saw how it was _killing_ you."

There's no holding back the tears at this point, and he turns his head so that he's still tucked up against Adam's chest but he can rub at his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even.

"Look, mate... I know you feel shitty today. I know that leaving Robert has been shitty. But... you're happier, aren't you?"

"...Yeah," he whispers, knowing it's true, knowing Adam is right. If he hadn't gotten out of it, that relationship would have ended up killing both of them.

"Then there's your answer," Adam says, letting them lapse into silence, gently rubbing his thumb against Aaron's shoulder.

It doesn't feel like it, in the moment, but Aaron knows that objectively he has been improving, has been happier, has been coping better. It would be a lot easier if it was a steady improvement, if each day was easier than the last. But that's never going to be how it happens. He's had plenty of experience with that. All he can do is ride it out and hold on to the knowledge that it will pass.

He pulls back and curls back up in his own corner of the couch, after a few moments of indulging in Adam's comfort, and when Adam gives him a reassuring smile, he finds it in him to return it.

It's going to be okay.


End file.
